Pleasure From Pain
by blacktears
Summary: Dark, slash, bds&m, rape etc. Voldemort gains power-and he is not a kind Master.
1. Part 1

  
Disclaimer: ...   
Note: Dark, slash, bds&m etc. This part is short, though I doubt, as a whole, this fic will be otherwise.   
  
  
  


#### Yes, Master, My Master

  
  
Lord Voldemort growled at the small, shimmering image of Harry Potter that presented itself to him in his scrying bowl. He dispised the boy with a passion and wanted more than anything to see him dead. No, that wasn't quite true-he wanted to see him hurt, suffer, scream and beg for a mercy that he'd never feel, and then rot away forever, scared and in anguish. Potter's reflection just smiled up at him.   
  
With a hatefilled scowl, Voldemort's hand swept across the table, knocking the bowl off and onto the ground where is cracked into several large pieces, sending the now clear water across the stone floor of the crypt Voldemort had been forced to stay in.   
  
At the sound, one of the Dark Lord's many incompetent slaves rushed in, his face drawn in pointless concern for his master. Voldemort turned and scowled at the young boy, who had been a gift to him from one of his loayal Death Eaters. The boy stopped in his tracks, his grungy robe rippling past him at the sudden change of movement. Whatever the boy had been planning to say, dyed still on his tongue at the look on his Master's face.   
  
"I'm leaving." Voldemort announced, sweeping past the frozen wizard, who turned to follow him with his eyes.   
  
Paying no attention to his many servents, Voldemort stormed out of the crypt into the dark graveyard that hid him. At the site of the graves, a few with flowers on them, Voldemort's scowl deepened. He hated staying with the dead, unnoticed by all but a few. He wanted a castle, where he could devise his plans in a luxorious room, and devulge his pleasures where he pleased-a place without rats, or cobwebs and dust. And he would have a place like that-after disposing of a few, well chosen people that is.   
  
He stormed through the graveyard, absently pointing his wand at a beaquet of black-eyed-susans that lay atop a war ventren's tombstone, causing them to wilt and rot in place. How dare something as insignificant as flowers look so smug, while he, a powerful lord that deserved to rule the world, but in a bad mood?   
  
As he started down the muggle road, heading no where in particular, his mind began forming a plan. It was too long that he had to live in Harry's shadow-concerned with what a mear boy could do, thinking, rememberng his first defeat before planning every move. Harry could no longer hurt him-not after the tornament and Voldemort's full return-but still, the Dark Lord craved revenge. And he would have it.   
  
Thoughts churned in his mind, bringing a sadistic smile to his lips. He would break Harry, in every way he knew how-he would hurt him, in every way possible. Through his friends; through his emotions; through physical pain....   
  
A course of action firmly in his head, the Dark Lord turned and headed back to the cemetary. The last hing he needed to firgure out was how to get Harry out of that infernal school-with the idiot Dumbledore, the task would not be easy. Dumbledore's time of immunity was at it's end as well-he would be the next target once the Potter boy had been broken. Voldemort was not afraid of him any longer, and knew just what he would do to the old wizard, who could not seem to stay out of his way.   
  
Once back in the graveyard, Voldemort strode through the aisles of tombstones, a small, sadistic smile playing across his lips. His walk had been short indeed, yet so revealing, and had lifted his spirits considerably.   
  
He made it to the large crypt that served as a temporary home-another thing he would be sure to change once the Potter brat was gone....Hogwarts would make a suitable new "home" for him, perhaps he could take up resedence there.... He entered the crypt, thoughts flitting through his mind, boosting his mood more.   
  
Once inside, he was met by the expected staircase. He went down it, dark robe trailing behind him. As soon as he reached the bottom, the kid who'd first learned of his stroll, hurried over and bowed before him. Voldemort stared down at the quivering teenager-Doran, was his name.   
  
Aware that his master hadn't brushed past him, the blond boy carefully raised his eyes. "Master?" he asked, not looking directly at the Dark Lord's face, but close.   
  
"I'm in the mood to play tonight," Voldemort announced to him, drawing pleasure at the small shudder the boy couldn't repress. "Come to my room in a half hour, and bring the bamboo cane." Voldemort strode away, ignoring the boys soft and quivering "yes master."   
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....


	2. Part 2

Note: Wow-I dontinued this.....unexpected on my part. Another short piece-not as dark, no bds&m, but this story, hopefully, has a plottish-type thing and thus I need to throw in this. More torture later, though (thats the part I enjoy writing the most-and I'm better at writing, as you'll likely notice). Read and review please.  
Disclaimer: the usual.  
  
  
  
Lord Voldemort stared at the gaggles of Hogwarts students from within the folds of his invisability cloak, his eyes picking out Harry Potter automatically and without difficulty. The famous young wizard was standing with his friends, the girl and the red head, holding his dark robes tightly around himself, looking happy, if a little disterbed or disapointed as he waited until the last possible moment to leave Hogsmede. The red head and girl were talking, but Voldemort concentrated on Harry-who was letting his eyes roam around aimlessly. For a second, Harry paused to stare right where the Dark Lord was standing, as though he could see him, but then he looked away. ~Was the bond between him and that boy really so strong?~ Voldemort wondered as he watched the students begin to head back to Hogwarts. ~So strong that the Potter boy could see past Voldemort's invisability cloak? Or was this another of those infuriating talents that the boy was developing?~  
Shaking his head, the Dark Lord slowly began to follow the students, keeping enough distance in case Dumbledore was near, or Harry had indeed seen him (which was unlikely).   
Voldemort had been preparing for his revenge for quite a span of time now-planning and biding his time. He was utterly sick of it-his soul called for action and blood, not caution. He was so strong now, anyhow-a minor flaw would do little to his ultimate goal.  
Voldemort looked up from the ground, hatred for those who had kept him from suceeding burning in his eyes-Hogwarts spread out before him, lush and ready for the taking. He had made it inside with barely noticing......  
A smile flit across the wizard's features as he watched the students head to their houses. He'd not have to wait much longer, he knew, before Harry; his friends and Dumbledore were his.  
  
Voldemort stood in the center of the cold corridor, unnoticed to the teachers and students that passed by him, on their way whereever they were headed. The Dark Lord watched them with a little anticipation, but he'd not rush things-taking his time to savor his victory was much more amusing.   
Finally, the man he had been waiting for appeared down the hall; talking softly to the professor, stroking his long white beard as he walked. His expression was troubled, his mouth a small frown, but his eyes had picked up Voldemort yet. The Dark Lord smiled, holding his wand, a home made spell on the tip of his tongue. "Dumbledore," he spoke softly, but it was loud enough for the Headmaster and his companion to hear, and freeze.  
The revered wizard looked at Voldemort, penetrating the invisability cloak with a gaze, his normally kind eyes cold with hatred. Beside him, Professor Snape froze, not seeing what the other man could, but recognizing the voice of his old Master. "Voldemort." Dumbledore stated flatly, obviously preparring a spell.  
The Dark Lord beat the older man to it, shoving his wand out of the folds of his cape even as he spoke. His eyes gleamed with pleasure as he watched the old man stiffen like a board, then collapse. Snape looked down in surprise, his own face contorting with emotions-rage? Fear? Hatred? Voldemort slowly shoved the hood of his cloak back as the other pulled his own wand. Invisability was no longer necessary-the strongest chain in the link of wizards-with the exception of Voldemort himself-had been broken. There was no stopping the chain reaction that was destined to follow.  
"Snape," Voldemort purred, enjoying his game imensly. Snape had betrayed him, truly betrayed him and had not answered his summons-Voldemort had something planned for him....Voldemort had planned a little something for most of the wizarding community-death for the lucky ones; the others subjected to various forms of....persuasion until they joined him, or he tired of the game.   
The potions teacher's face was nearly comical and the Dark Lord didn't bother restraining a sinister smile at the other's fright and discomfort. "Your most potent wizard lies at your feet," Voldemort continued in a soft nearly friendly tone. "You can't fight-are you going to join me again?"  
Snape almost seemed to consider, but there was defiance in his eyes. Just as well...Voldemort had no intentions of letting the man go unpunished for his hand in bringing the wizard down, and consorting with his arch enemies. Softly, without the need to yell, or even make the words heard, Voldemort repeated his spell and the glaring potions professor fell bonelessly to the ground.  
Voldemort sighed and smiled. Finally-the school was nearly his. And when the school was out, his revenge on those in it taken, he could move on to the Ministry of Magic and the rest of the wzarding community. The smile on his lips widened faintly. And perhaps the non-wizarding community this time as well-he would gladly kill off the Muggles, or make slaves of them. They were no threat to him though-he would decide that later. For now, on to the Potter boy.... 


End file.
